


Gleðispillir Stríðs - Spoils of War

by pulangaraw



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Gen, Poetic Edda, rewriting of existing poetry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-19
Updated: 2013-05-19
Packaged: 2017-12-12 07:56:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/809163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pulangaraw/pseuds/pulangaraw
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is the 'Edda' version of how Loki came to be raised by Odin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gleðispillir Stríðs - Spoils of War

**Gleðispillir Stríðs** stands as one of the lesser known poems in the _Codex Regius_. Although one of the most intact works, it has long been forgotten among its more compelling companions. Its obscurity can be mainly ascribed to the fact that neither it, nor a similar story, can be found in any of the other Edda compilations, thus opening it up to questions about its authenticity. Although in light of recent events (in New Mexico and New York), these scolarly questions could possibly be answered soon.

The general plan of the poem is quite clear. Laufey, the Frost Giant king, has gone to war against Midgard and thus angered Odin enough to interfere in the fight. When the Frost Giants flee Midgard, the battle continues on Jotunheim, their home. Farbauti, Laufey’s wife and mother of his children, had warned him against the war, but was ignored. She and all her children (but one) die in the battle, but before she dies she strikes a deal with Odin. He promises her to raise her youngest son, Loki, as one of his own. Thus, Odin gets his revenge on Laufey, but the innocent child’s life is saved. The final passage hints at the later falling out between Loki, Thor and Odin as told in other poems in the _Codex_ and other compilations.

 

You ask me to speak, Allfather,  
of old tales, of deeds long ago,  
Nine worlds I know, the nine of the Tree  
with mighty roots beneath the ground.

Long ago was the time, when Ymir lived,  
Midgard the lively they created.  
The sun from the south warmed the stones  
and green was the ground with growing grass.

And there lived the men, and council they held,  
and gave names to the things around them.  
Forges they set and worked the iron.  
Fields they tilled and beauty they fashioned.

In peaceful houses, they played at tables,  
a lack of food they did not know,  
until the foes came from worlds of frost,  
cold and strong out of Jotunheim.

The war I remember, the first of the world,  
the light of the dawn glinting coldly on ice,  
snow choking frozen fields far and wide,  
in the distance rang the clash of battle.

Strong they fought, the sons of men,  
to defeat the foes brought forth from ice.  
Yet laws had been made and lives allotted,  
to the sons of men and set their fates.

The war I remember, the first of the world,  
then sought the gods their assembly seats,  
the mighty ones and council they held  
to decide if the gods should interfere.

In swelling rage then Odin rose up,  
seldom he sat silent when such things were heard.  
The air filled up with words and bonds,  
the mighty pledges between them made.

He woke the heroes in Odin’s hall,  
and beneath the earth the crow cries out,  
the rust-red bird at the gates of Hel,  
of the fate of the gods, the mighty in fight.

Widely I saw over all the worlds,  
on all sides I saw warriors assemble,  
ready to ride to the ranks of the gods,  
full grown in strength on the icy fields.

Axe time, sword time, shields are sundered.  
Wind time, ice time, fire burns bright.  
Before Midgard falls, the gods move fast,  
never shall warriors spare each other.

Loud roar the Frost Giants and turn their backs,  
refuge they seek among ice and snow,  
ancient cold steals breath and strength,  
but mighty is Odin and his wrath burns hot.

A hall I saw, far from the sun,  
on Jotunheim it stands and the doors face north.  
Much do I know and more did I see,  
of the fate of the gods, would you know more?

While Laufey incurs Odin’s fiery wrath,  
Farbauti sits high and keeps silent watch.  
Laughter of children carries on the icy wind,  
war yet was raging far from their home.

The stars burn cold on Jotunheim,  
in wondrous beauty the spires shine,  
roofed with white, all lands she rules,  
the wife of the king, she shares his burden.

A mighty queen she was, Farbauti  
fierce of beauty and wise of mind.  
Many strong sons she bore to Laufey,  
their skins shines blue, their blood runs cold.

Helblindi the first, strong of arm,  
a mighty blow his foes does fell.  
Byleistr the second, sure footed and swift  
the wind he races, ahead of the throng.

…  
*here at least two stanzas are missing and unreadable due to water damage.

A maiden daughter, Sigyn was fair,  
her mother’s pride, she outshone the stars.  
The last of the brethren, Loki was born  
fair of skin and sharp of mind.

Much shall be told of the many-named,  
yet then he was only a babe.  
His mother’s most dear, the beloved son.  
Farbauti held him closest in her heart.

For her children she feared, mother of many.  
To Laufey she spoke words of caution.  
His blood ran cold, hard as the ice,  
he heeded not the words of wisdom.

I tell you, Laufey, pray hear my words,  
great our gain if you learnest:  
Do not bring war upon our home,  
our fates are woven, great I fear the cost.

Wise are you, Farbauti, mother of giants,  
yet fear gnaws at your heart.  
Myself, I would seek to match my strength  
against that of the sons of men.

Out of Ymir’s flesh was fashioned their earth  
and mountains were made of his bones.  
The sky from the frost-cold giant’s skull,  
one of my fathers, for me to rule such ground.

Safe may you go then, safe come again  
and safe be the way that you travel.  
Wisdom then, of giants wise, lead your hand  
and strength may you draw from the ice.

Forth strode Laufey, his Frost Giants led  
the king to Midgard, the sons of men.  
His fate was woven, great be the cost,  
Odin’s wrath unleashed upon Jotunheim.

Vindsval created, who was winters father,  
giants of ice reside in cold walls.  
Cold burn the stars on winters unmeasured,  
ice birds’ cries race over cold mountains.

Farbauti sat in the halls of ice,  
there she listened for her kings return.  
Of fire I dreamt, she whispers softly,  
hot is the fire, too fierce by far.

Her home is here, with silver thatched  
by the hands of the everlasting frost.  
Her children play down among white-cold snow,  
their innocent cries ring loud on the wind.

Over Midgard Hugin and Munin both  
chase the war giants.  
before the Heerfather they flee the battle,  
the fates are woven, those of the mighty.

To Hel they fall, Sith and Vith  
Rin and Rinandi  
Nyt and Not, Gjol and Lipt  
and the sacred waters seethe.

Laufey stood, cold sword in his hand,  
he rose and sought to take Odin from the fire.  
The sword slipped from his hand  
The king stumbled and fell.

The Jotuns there fled, the battle raged.  
Their strength forsaken, their weapons fell.  
The ice grew hot under Odin’s step,  
strong rally the gods, the heroes of men.

The earth shakes, the home of Gymir,  
no refuge holds the coldest ground.  
In the giants’ home, the heroes fear not,  
hot burns the ground beneath Odin’s step.

High in cold halls the battle sounds ring,  
the cries of the children fly on the wind.  
Grief shall they get, instead of gladness  
and sorrow suffer with tears.

Odin is angry, angered is the best of gods.  
Give heed, Frost-Rulers, hear it, giants:  
To the Frost Giants’ halls his step him takes.  
No mercy he knows for the foes of men.

Crawling and craving in vain,  
strength leaves their arms and legs  
Laufey lies beaten, ice crumbles to dust,  
great is the wrath of the mighty.

My tidings are such, much have I seen.  
Would you know more yet?  
Nine nights they fought, destruction rained  
upon the home of the Frost Giants.

Far from the halls Farbauti sought to flee  
her children to steer from the battle wrath.  
Eight fell from the ledge and one alone,  
the crying babe of all was whole.

You none have heard, far of them who have,  
the tale of Farbauti, who better can tell?  
What prize Odin won, from the Frost-Queen’s bosom,  
who gave her child, love of her heart.

The mighty one came, upon Farbauti,  
his fist raised high, the blow to strike.  
She knelt on the ground, Farbauti, she wept,  
her fate has been set, for all she sees.

Slay not my child in your wrath, she cried,  
He is but born a day.  
In days long since was an evil fate for me fixed,  
Life’s thread I wove strong in him.

Cold one, spoke Odin, blood drips from his hands,  
Your road leads to Hel, yet alone you shall go.  
The babe to the gods as a hostage given,  
the son will I have, whom no man hates.

Forth did he take, the frost-cold son  
from the hands of the Ice Queen on the ground.  
Nowhere on earth is it known to man  
nor in heaven above, the promise he made.

Farbauti there smiled, on the glittering stone.  
Together we dwelt, our joy was great.  
Beasts we tamed, a home us made,  
children we had and happy we lived.

Helblindi the eldest, Byleistr the next,  
Joth, Byrth and Nithjung soon grew up.  
Sigyn and Sun, cold beauty shone  
Kon was one and Loki the youngest.

Yet restless he grew, my husband Laufey,  
the gods he angered, the dark-loving giant.  
The fall I must bear and bow to my fate  
Of mighty Odin this favour I ask.

Flames I see burning, the ice is on fire.  
Death do not fear, on the way I shall fare.  
My son you shall raise as one of your own,  
Close to your heart shall from now he live.

Out of her arms Odin took the child,  
from her bosom cold to wrap in his cloak.  
As the gods he would grow the stolen child,  
not naming the home from whence he came.

There Laufey surrendered, his halls were in ruin,  
the casket of ice they took from his hands.  
The hope is gone from the mighty giant.  
Life stolen in vengeance for evil work.

Bloody he was on his breast before,  
forward rode Odin, the earth resounded.  
The spires so hight of Jotun lay broken,  
wind whipped the snow, frost on the ground.

Wise was Farbauti, her council unheeded.  
Highest price was paid for the trespass bold.  
Home ride Odin, be ever proud,  
for none of men shall he seek anymore.

His time he will bide in the ruins of ice,  
till Loki wanders loose from his bonds,  
and to the last strife the destroyer comes  
and fate be rewritten for the mighty ones.

**Author's Note:**

> I was rewatching Thor the other day and I had also been re-reading the Poetic Edda (http://www.sacred-texts.com/neu/poe/) and felt the need to rewrite the story of Loki's 'adoption' in Edda style. A lot of the lines are actually taken from various Edda poems and just re-worked a little to fit the purpose of the story. I hope you enjoy it anyway. I had fun putting it all together. :)
> 
> PS: I had to consult Gtranslate for the Icelandic title, so if you speak the language and find it is wrong, please let me know!


End file.
